


Male Reader X Female Chucky

by CampGreen



Category: Child's Play/Chucky (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: I started writing this stupid thing all the way back in October, great to finally get it off my chest just in time for Valentine's. Chucky is from Universal Pictures'/Don Manchini's Child's Play series. Also, there's a paraphrased lyric from one of my favorite songs slipped in here, you'll get a prize if you find it. Hint: the song's and this story's plots mirror one another. The winner was Maki_The_Rabbot.





	1. Early Christmas Present

You feel nothing. It's just the millionth quick and unsatisfying climax you've had in the bathroom of your workplace alone. You give a disappointed sigh before tepidly cleaning your cheek with a roll of toilet paper, flushing, washing your hands, and finishing the rest of your shift. If you had a dollar for every time you've jacked off in your life, you'd make Bill Gates' net worth seem like chump change. At this point, there's nothing but numbness when your hands and your cock meet. Even though you've long exhausted your libido, there's still a voice in your cock personifying your blazing hormones, begging for something, anything that'll induce some true pleasure. You're far too poor for any sex toys, you live in a motel, for god's sake. You might resort to a hooker but you'd rather die a virgin than live with STD's. 

Your life is just an uneventful drag, but all you need is a sex life. A modest little twinkle in your existence that makes all of the hardships worth it. It's far too late for that, though. You're not gonna become a Casanova overnight. An actual, living, breathing significant other is basically off the table. Christmas is creeping up, and your dignity is starting to crumble so much you're fixing to beg one of your few friends to gift you an artificial vagina. After work let's out at around 6, right when darkness starts to settle into the cold December night, you indulge yourself in a stroll downtown with drizzles of snow billowing around you. You take a back-alley short cut where a shady, unkempt-looking woman in ragged hobo clothes is throwing out cheap bargains to the passerbys, like the poor man's Black Friday, with a couple of buggies at her shoulders overflowing with a whole store's worth of junk she probably dug out of Walmart dumpsters. 

You take a quick and curious glance, and among all of the action figures and cooking equipment and arts-and-crafts supplies is a rectangular cardboard box, the size of a short human, painted yellow, and with a window of translucent plastic that gives you a peek inside. You take a closer look and for a split second, you think the saleswoman's trapped an actual girl in a 1.75 yard tall toy carton. But sure enough, it's just the most life-like doll you could've ever dreamed of, outfitted with some adorable cutoff overalls over a red, blue, and green striped long-sleeved shoulder top and pair of black toeless stockings. Its admittedly cute albeit lifeless face is coupled with a couple of big blue eyes and a short, shaggy mane of orange hair. Its packaging comes along with a description on the side.

_"Charlie is the forth installment in our Good Girl franchise, and a metal skeleton wrapped from head-to-toe in a layer of soft, elastic, high quality TPE silicon skin. This, coupled with her full articulation and detailed oral, anal, and vaginal parts makes her almost indistinguishable from an actual woman. Charlie is without a doubt the most like-life and innovative sex doll on the entire market, and of the hundreds of reviews we've received over the years, not a single one of them has given her less than a solid 5 stars._

_Item Measurements:_

_Height: 5'3"_  
_Weight: 80 lbs_  
_Bust: 31"_  
_Cup: B Cup_  
_Waist: 21"_  
_Hips: 30""_

The most life-like and innovative sex doll on the market. Like that's an accomplishment to be proud of. It's still an accomplishment though, that's for sure. But seriously, what kind of sad, lonely loser would actually spend money on this? 

_"Hey, uh,"_ you bashfully begin to the hobo saleswoman, scratching the back of your head out of habit. _"How much for the Good Girl doll?"_

 _"Oh, that old thing?"_ she asks in a gravelly voice, with the stench of beer in her breath. _"Whatdoya got?"_

You dig through your wallet and, not counting some measly change, muster a 20, two 5's, and three 1's. _"33 dollars."_

_"Eh, it's Christmas, that'll do it. Shit, it'll be a pleasure to finally get this thing off my hands, stupid doll almost fills up a whole damn buggy."_

You might have to miss a meal or two later down the line to afford it, but if this thing is as good as advertised, you can handle a few hungry nights. You slap every bill you got into the woman's hand and cart the giant box back to your place.


	2. Playtime

After settling into your dingy motel, you plop the doll onto your bed and rip it out its packaging. You wanted to be careful just in case you needed to return it but your inner child got the better of you. It's nice to feel like a kid again, even just for a few seconds. After shedding Charlie of its plastic and cardboard cage, you make its attire a bit less modest to see the Good Girl's dealmakers. Well, the box didn't lie. That's a vagina, that's an ass, and that's a mouth, alright.

There's still a voice in your head reminding you about how much of a loser you are, but you've already emptied your wallet and took her, uh, _it_ out of the box. No turning back now. Discarding your pants and mounting your knees on the bed around Charlie, you slide your craving boner out from your briefs' fly and into its rubber vulva. The cradle of its interior feels like heaven against your many throbbing veins. You cling onto Charlie's knees before jamming your hips back and forth, plowing the doll damn near in half. The spark that once lit your life back when you first discovered masturbating all those years ago has finally reignited, after a decade and a half of desperately digging through thousands of gigabytes and magazines of porn. This realization alone elevates you to a whole nother plain entirely, a-

_"Fill me up with your cock, big boy!"_

You leap off the bed in a fright, tearing your wettened dick straight out of its pussy lips. Did that thing just talk?! Its face moved so realistically, its cheeks, its mouth, its everything. This is hardly even uncanny valley anymore. You thought she was a sex doll, but as far as you're concerned, you're just banging a comatose girl who talks in her sleep. Did the packaging say anything about a voicebox? You give the big carton another scan and sure enough, there's a small section advertising Charlie's speaking capabilities. 

_"Charlie's additionally outfitted with a voicebox that detects the stimulation of her private parts and randomly generates a variety of three complete statements: 'Hi! I'm Charlie! Wanna play?', 'I want your cum all over me, baby!', and 'Fill me up with your cock, big boy!'"_

Well, that's that. It'll probably get annoying hearing the same three trills over and over again but you basically have a girlfriend now so who cares. You hurriedly pick the fun back up before your hard-on dies, and flip Charlie over into a doggy position, taking advantage of all of that life-like articulation by getting it on its hands and knees. You sink all ten of your fingernails into its asscheeks and start devotedly pounding the everloving shit out of the back-end of the doll. The self-deprecating angel on your shoulder is twisted and demonized into a cheerleader, rooting you on as you pop a few springs in your bed from fucking so hard. Charlie recites its three sentences a few times but it hasn't gotten on your nerves yet. As a matter of fact, a well timed "I want your cum all over me, baby!" is what finally shoves you into an explosive climax. 

Your scrotum thunders before letting loose the biggest cumshot of your life, already ruining Charlie's vagina with an unanticipated overflow of your syrupy children. Good thing you have two other holes to spoil. If this lifeless piece of rubber really is the closest you're ever getting to losing your virginity, you're not complaining. After catching your breath, you look down at Charlie's sweet, heart-shaped rear as you and your cum-swamped cock hug it, and realize there's a skin-colored battery case installed at the crest of its asscrack. Must be what fuels its voice box. But you didn't put any batteries in it. You give the box another glance, although it's hard to see since your vision is so racked by the orgasm that everything's getting blurry, and read:

_"There's a small case at the back part of Charlie's waist that requires four AA batteries to power her voice box with. **BATTERIES NOT INCLUDED."**_

You pull your eyes out from the words scribbled onto the side of the packaging and use them to give the limp doll a confused stare as cum streams down its thighs. Maybe a Good Girl factory worker in the Christmas spirit popped in a few batteries for free? You fetch a screwdriver from the toolbox in your supply closet and twist the quartet of bolts out of Charlie's butt. You pop the now freed case open and...

It's completely empty.

_"Hi! I'm Charlie! Wanna play?"_


	3. Time-Out

The pint of cum you loaded into Charlie's cunt shoots right back out at you into your face with a queef, blinding you with a splat on your own baby batter. You stumble backwards off the foot of the bed, blinded, and your cheeks land in the seat of your office chair. When you're finally able to wipe your eyes clean of the thick sauce, a sole crashes down onto your dick, protected by nothing but a flimsy pair of underwear, so you're instantly paralyzed by a lightning bolt of stomach-churning agony.

 _"'Cause we're gonna play, big boy,"_ the blurry figure in front of you speaks, with a tough-as-nails Jersey accent. _"Whether you like it or not."_

_"W-W-Who the hell are you?"_

_"You retarded or something? I think it's been made crystal fucking clear the name's Charlie."_ Your vision clears up and, sure enough, the lifeless metal skeleton you were pumping full of cum just a few minutes earlier is grinding your dick with the ball of her foot. _"Boy, you sure got one helluva deal, kid. Every other loser that pisses their money away to Good Girl gets something to fuck. You're the lucky number one of them who got a doll that fucks back!"_ she snarls, punctuating her sentence with a twist of her heel to tear a few muscles in your scrotum.

 _"H-H-How the..."_ you whine in a voice higher than hers.

 _"You've got plenty of problems, and how I'm walking and talking ain't one of them."_ She rips a combat knife out from one of her overall pockets, grabs a handful of your hair, and lashes out with the tip of her blade pressed against your jugular. _"THIS is one of them!"_

You let out a tearful whimper and she responds with a sadistic cackle. Her stomp down on your cock skyrockets into a kick, toppling the office chair over and you with it. 

_"I could tell you were a virgin by the way you fucked me to a damn near asthma attack. A downie would've pounded my ass less clumsily than you did. Me taking the wheel and getting on top is an act of fucking benevolence."_

Before you can get to your feet, she snags you by the underwear and reels you into her grasp, trying to manhandle you as she tears your briefs off your legs. Charlie might look like a doll but her strength is that of a grown man's, putting a frail loser like you at a crushing disadvantage. You scarcely manage to writhe free of her choke just enough to slip out a fist across her face, messily busting her lip open. She gives a grunt of frustration as she recoils in pain, allowing you to drag yourself back a few feet. She dabs the blood pouring down her chin and gives it a look of concern. Then the look devolves to that of sick pleasure, making her lips curl and her eyes slant into the wickedness that lies behind her silicone shell.

 _"Shit, and I thought I was cute. You think you can hurt me, kid?"_ She starts dragging the very tip of her knife across her face, painting it with about seven deep gashes. Now she looks like she tried bobbing for apples in a bin full of broken glass shards. _"I'm fucking insane. I'm your worst fucking nightmare, I'm the one that dishes out the hurt here!"_

You scamper away in fear from the sadomasochistic freak right for the door. As your fingers are pricked by the cold metal of the knob, your heart skips a beat when a grooved blade deeply gouges into the sheet of wood you're up against, a knife throw that missed your head by mere inches. You twist around so your back's up against the wall. Charlie lunges at speeds nigh-unseeable and seizes the knife's handle as she stares you dead in the eye, face to face. 

_"That's it! You need a fucking time-out!"_ she growls as she rips the blade out of the wood and buries it in between your ribs.

It's yanked out then stabbed right back in, over and over and over. She must've stabbed you fifty fucking times. Your abdomen is butchered and your body slips to the ground with blood pouring out of your mouth. You're caught by the cheeks by Charlie. Before you can scream, she stabs you again. But this time it's in between the lips, with her tongue. Like a vampire, she uses your red-dyed tongue as a straw to suck the blood out of your mouth whilst your eyes roll into the back of your head. Just as she lets go so you slump to the floor, your heart and brain shut down for good as all traces of life is siphoned from your body, leaving behind nothing but a husk of skin, muscle, and bone. 

But Charlie is just getting started.


	4. Good Boy

Everything is quiet for a few seconds.

 _"Speechless, huh? What's wrong, your voicebox short out?"_ She mocks your corpse with a chuckle. _"You know, you look cuter when you're dead. So peaceful, so vulnerable. Four dozen cuts in your stomach is a good style too. Maybe you'll start a trend? And hey, look on the bright side. At least you didn't die a virgin."_

Charlie's cruel sneers are interrupted by a sudden knock.

 _"Hello? (Y/N)? It's me, your landlady,"_ a muffled voice announces from outside. _"I know you're in there, I just heard voices."_

 _"Fucking bureaucrats...Coming!"_ Charlie pinches the bridge of her nose before hurriedly blanketing you and all the bloodstains with covers torn from your bed. 

She then reluctantly answers the door with a big fake smile. _"What is it, miss?"_

_"Uh, and who are you?"_

_"(Y/N)'s...escort."_

_"Uh-huh. Can I speak to him?"_

_"No, he's...under the weather. Flu."_

_"His rent's overdue. All he needs is to sign a single check."_

_"Come back later,"_ Charlie tries slamming the door in your landlady's face but she blocks it.

_"I need that check signed now."_

_"Christ, bitch, clingy much? Did the two of you have a fling or something? Oh, who am I kidding, he wouldn't bang that flat chest and you wouldn't bang that micropenis."_

_"Excuse me?! Look, I know you're just a whore, but that gives you no right to call me a-"_

So she can't scream, Charlie claws her throat out with her bare hands and rips her ear off with a single chomp for good measure. She takes a couple hours disposing of the body, using everything your pitiful household has to offer to dismember the corpse so it fits better in one of your big black trash bags. She slings the soggy sack of body parts over her back like Santa Claus and hurls it into the nearest dumpster outside. Charlie finally returns home and slumps down in your office chair after picking it back up off the floor.

 _"Phew! That was a workout!"_ Charlie sighs as she wipes off the blood that was trickling down her chin, you know after she Mike Tyson'd the landlady's ear and all. _"Would it have killed you to have a saw on standby? I don't expect you to have a big toolshed like a real man would but still. Do you have any idea how hard it is to cut through a femur with a kitchen knife? I had to break it with a hammer just to get started! Oh, and all of your knives are as dull as a short-bus population now, by the way, sorry about that."_

As Charlie meaninglessly rants to you, she finally notices that your pigmentation is becoming warped. The greenness of early decomposition starts to settle, lightened only by the chalk whiteness brought on by the cold choke of death.

 _"Wow, you ain't looking too hot, huh? Or maybe you just look ugly next to me by comparison. Whatever,"_ she rolls her eyes as she starts digging around your pantries and fridge like a raccoon. 

_"God, you don't have shit in here. I mean, you're living in a motel, I'm not hoping to find a lobster dinner, but ever heard of ramen noodles? No wonder you weigh less than me, and I'm solid fucking rubber! Well actually, my human body is starting to grow back into my doll body thanks to some voodoo bullshit, but that's a whole 'nother story. Man, I do I talk too much?...No, fuck you, I don't talk too much. Shit, I don't talk enough!"_

Two hours. Thank God your ability to perceive has long rotted away, because you wouldn't have been able to handle two hours of Charlie, the biggest slob you never lived long enough to witness. She's crashing at your motel like a cartoonish fratboy, like she owns the place! Leaving her sweaty clothes wadded up on the floor, ripping so many farts and queefs your home is irradiated into a toxic wasteland, gobbling down every crumb and drop of food your kitchen has to offer (including your beer!), draining your light and water bills, and worst of all, endlessly rambling as if she's recording a fucking audio book. Good thing you're already dead, else you'd have a heart attack from seeing your place devolved into a pig sty. Four hours after getting shanked to death by Charlie, rigor mortis sets in. Each and every one of your muscles start to stiffen so your body gains the texture of a statue. _Every_ one of your muscles. Even though not a single ounce of blood courses through your veins, your cock solidifies just like any other erection.

 _"Oh, what's this?"_ Charlie perks up as she shuts off the TV. _"Look whose standing at attention,"_ she tauntingly snarls as she flicks your cock so it jiggles like a doorstopper. _"You're so thirsty not even death can stop your sex drive. I actually admire that. Something I can relate to, coming back from the dead just for one last session of fun. I'd hate to disappoint..."_

You would think, after dying, you wouldn't have much to worry about anymore. But just your luck, not even your corpse can catch a fucking break, about to be defiled beyond recognition by a sicko whose depravity knows no bounds. She toothlessly bites down on your cock in a complete deepthroat, likely lacking a gag reflex. She twists her tongue around on your dead still penis until it's literally glistening with spit - the perfect lubricant. She props herself up on your cold, unmoving chest as she looks you in your closed eyes. Charlie starts eagerly working her hips on your limp body, hammering her asscheeks down on your waist. She clenches her eyes as a look of paradise washes over her face like a tide crashing onto a shore. 

Her shuddering gasps get so persistent and loud you'd be surprised you don't receive a noise complaint after the fact, if you weren't dead and incapable of surprise. She throws her head back and her mouth hangs wide open as her squeaks get so high they're literally inaudible. A whole pitcher's worth of pussy juice torrents out from between the two locked genitalia like a snowslide to soak your entire pelvis with. She collapses and just barely catches herself on all fours, panting like an animal and nonexistent pores spilling with sweat. The muscle contractions twisting around in your shaft from Charlie's rape and rigor mortis stimulates your balls just enough to empty them into her ass. One final cumshot floods into her belly straight through her vagina.

 _"Holy shit, that's the best sex I've ever had!"_ Charlie wheezes as she brushes her now disheveled ginger bangs out of her eyes, before composing herself with a swallow and a stroke across her sweaty forehead. _"I'm no doctor but I know from experience that rigor mortis lasts about 48 hours after death. So we're gonna have almost 2 more solid days of fun. That's right. You're the doll now. You're my sex toy,"_ she bossily whispers into your ear in a bastardization of sweet pleasantries. _"And you're gonna take and love every second of it just like the little whore you are. Isn't that right?"_

She takes your unflinching silence as a yes.

_"That's a Good Boy."_   



End file.
